


Nothing to Fear

by EbilChameleon



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: And a proud Bull, Fluff, M/M, One embarrassed Dorian, hand holding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2015-04-16
Packaged: 2018-03-23 06:54:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3758641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EbilChameleon/pseuds/EbilChameleon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian's hesitant about publicly showcasing his relationship with The Iron Bull. Bull holds his hand through every step.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing to Fear

**Author's Note:**

> Kept having this idea of Dorian being hesitant with anything resembling PDA with Bull. So these words happened. 
> 
> Please enjoy and happy reading!

“We’re going to be late.”

“Just…give me a moment.”

“You said that ten minutes ago. Cassandra’s gonna burn us with her death glare.”

“Then why don’t you run along without me, I can certainly work some charm with her or find some way to throw Varric under her wrath instead.”

“Dorian.”

He grits his teeth, hands visibly shaking from where they are clenched and resting on top of the vanity.

“You’re stalling.”

 _No shit, your observation skills are as sharp as ever I see!_ Dorian breathes deeply and swallows the sarcastic insult down. Every bit of him is fighting the urge not to run and hide. Also fighting to not break down and start arguing and complaining and shouting like a toddler having a tantrum. He glances up in the mirror and wants to look away, ashamed of himself for so many reasons. He was filled with such a fury at himself for overthinking this, but also at his father for embedding this fear within him. He’s dealt plenty with shame and fear and he refuses to associate what he was about to do with those two things now. There was absolutely nothing to be ashamed of here, he knew this. Yet he couldn't toss away the anxiety so easily.

He simply didn't know what to do. He’s never done this before, had never done anything remotely similar. But he agreed to do this. And Bull admitted it was something new to him as well yet he wasn't exuding the same nervousness as Dorian, in fact he seemed excited and proud.

Dorian wanted to be that proud. He _was_ proud but in a very different way than Bull.

“Dorian.” His name is said, not exactly like a command, more like an encouragement. He looks at himself in the mirror again, wishing to slam his fist into the reflection in hopes that it would shatter the hold his father still has over him. _There is nothing to be ashamed of here. You are a man who has found something steady and stable in another person. Another man. And there is nothing wrong with that._ He wasn't in Tevinter. He didn't have to abide by those social rules anymore. He had no house name to shame here. He was free here, free to openly love the person he was so quickly falling for.

With one last steadying breath Dorian straightens up and turns around. Bull stands by the door and watches him, then in one smooth motion he reaches out and offers his hand.

It was half a year’s time since that first drunken night they slept together. From something that was to meant to be nothing more than a quick romp to relieve sexual tension came something Dorian never expected to ever find in his life. One encounter evolved into two that became three then four, morphing into nights of sleeping together without them engaging in a single sexual act, developing into an unlikely bond and eventually sharing a room and an unspoken commitment and, Maker he couldn't believe it, _feelings._ And now, there was this.

A subtle but very public showcase of their solidified relationship.

There was a giddiness Dorian felt when just thinking that.

He is in a _relationship_. With a blighted _Qunari_ at that. A _male Qunari_. His father would die on the spot should he ever find out. The thought of him learning of it has Dorian simultaneously excited and terrified.

Dorian steps to Bull slowly and finally reaches out and lets his hand get lost in Bull’s. His hand is just about half the size of Bull’s and when their fingers lace he looks at them and nearly laughs at the comical size difference. Bull’s hand is rough and calloused and Dorian loves how warm and strong it is, how tightly his hand is held. Bull raises their hands, kisses Dorian’s knuckles and gives him an encouraging smile.

When Bull pushes his bedroom door open, Dorian feels rooted to the floor and is tugged when Bull starts walking. His heart is racing and he’s berating himself for his foolishness and knows that this is fine, everything is fine. He’s happy, he knows deep down he is and he hates that his family has made him reluctant by telling him that he’s wrong for doing this. His hand feels clammy, clasped with Bull’s, and it’s still shaking. The ramparts are empty when they leave the room but Dorian looks over the side and sees that the courtyard is brimming with people performing duties and enjoying the afternoon sun and rare warm summer weather.

When they reach the stairs to head down into the courtyard he hesitates and Bull stops. “All right, Kadan?” Naturally he feels the tremble in Dorian’s hand, his entire body, and can see that he’s far paler than normal. He turns and faces Dorian, cupping the side of his face. “They will stare, they will whisper. But none of that matters. There is nothing wrong with this.” Bull kisses their clasped hands again. “I am proud that I get to show you off. I am proud that people will know I have claimed you as my own. I am grateful that you have chosen me, Kadan. And I am proud of you for doing this.”

Dorian feels his face flush from the compliments and is rendered speechless, emotions clogging this throat and making his heart thud faster. “Let’s just get this over with. We’re already late,” he says quietly and looks away. He doesn't miss Bull’s amused smile.

Each step down the stairs feels heavy and like his knees are going to give out. It’s impossible, in his mind, that anyone down there couldn't care at all. He is still straining against being dubbed the evil Tevinter magister. Now he's walking, hand in hand, with a Qunari. Two natural enemies being so complacent and bluntly affectionate together was surely a sign of foul magic in play, southerners would think that, wouldn't they? He’d already been attacked by that wretched chantry mother for undue manipulation and there had been rumors. That may be old news but wouldn't something like this spark them anew?

Bull’s thumb starts rubbing against his own in a comforting gesture and Dorian glances down at it before looking back up. His entire body is tense when he notices the eyes upon them. His own locked with those of an elf girl, perhaps a few years younger than he was. A fist came to her mouth, eyes widened in surprise. Dorian held his breath, waiting for the ridicule and the hateful insults. She said nothing however, simply stared far too long before looking away with a blush on her face. He glances to others, saw similar expressions of shock yet no one spoke anything directly. No spiteful comments, no harsh sneers, no cursed lightning striking him dead. He was fine, if only feeling slightly embarrassed. Dorian looks up at Bull and sees he’s smiling with the utmost of pride and smugness. He truly wasn't kidding, what he said before. That struck a strong pang in Dorian’s chest and he felt awful for not being able to give Bull the same showcasing he deserved.

“See, they’re gonna gossip and in a week or two it’ll be old news and no one will bat an eye at us holding hands again. You haven’t been cursed to the deepest pits of hell like your father said.” They cross the main hall in the keep, many masked Orlesian heads turning with their movements and the whispering is more hurried and less hush-hush, but there still isn't any openly negative protests happening and Dorian relaxes only a fraction.

“Let’s just please not do this often. I feel all these stares _will_ kill me soon enough.”

Bull only chuckles as he leads them through Josephine’s office and down the hall to the war room where the advisors and all of the inner circle are gathered for a meeting that they were now beyond fashionably late to. Again Dorian hesitates right before the door. He’s already made it through the worst, he reminds himself, and while he and Bull hadn't said anything directly to anyone, these were the people who knew that there was _something_ going on between Bull and himself. Yet this was the first instance where they were openly confirming everything.

He isn't able to walk into the room as he would have liked: head high, hips swaying, shoulders straight and a dashing smile on his face. He keeps his head a bit low instead and wants to move closer to Bull to maybe mitigate how much of their clasped hands everyone could see but Bull refuses and keeps enough distance to make sure their hands would be as obvious as the horns on Bull’s head. And Bull isn't subtle with their entrance either, throwing the doors open and effectively cutting the Inquisitor off mid speech. Every head turns to look at the pair and Dorian wants to shrivel up and run away.

“Sorry we’re late,” Bull speaks loudly and drags Dorian into the room behind him. “I couldn't find a single thing to wear, nothing matched,” he joked. Dorian huffs at the obvious jest at him.

“Right,” Sera laughs, “so ya went on and skipped clothes completely, ya did.” Dorian doesn't miss the way her eyes flash when she notices they’re holding hands. Likely she’d end up being the worst threat he has now and that was simply going to come from vulgar and uncalled for commentary. He sighs and steps up to the table beside Blackwall who gives him a bit of side eye but in the end smiles a bit and Dorian feels honest shock from that.

The entire meeting Bull keeps a tight hold on his hand and any discomfort he had at first is gone by the time the Inquisitor calls an end to the meeting. Leliana had eyed them momentarily at first, Cassandra’s eyes kept flickering to their clasped hands and a very faint smile kept creeping to the corners of her mouth. Varric looked like he wanted to say _something_ and did a rather dismal job at hiding his smirk, and Sera managed more than one unnecessary comment which the Inquisitor glared at her for. The Inquisitor even threw them a wink upon leaving the war room.

“I’ll admit,” Dorian says that night back in their room, “I expected far worse. But don’t expect anything like that often, I assure you.”

“You’re saying I can’t smack your ass in front of other people?” Bull questions. He smirks at Dorian from the bed. Dorian quickly dresses in his sleeping clothes and practically hops into the bed to escape the chill that swept in when the sun went down.

“Absolutely not. You will remain chaste and controlled.”

“Hmm,” Bull hums and drags Dorian to his side where the mage burrows in the blanket and snuggles into Bull’s warmth. “So I can’t shove my tongue down your throat in front of Mother Giselle? ‘Cause I thought you’d appreciate her scandalized reaction.”

“Alright for that, I’m sure I can make an exception at least once.”

 


End file.
